


By Her Side:  A Christmas Story

by Vickiemoseley



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Hurt Fox Mulder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 18:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16331054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vickiemoseley/pseuds/Vickiemoseley
Summary: Bill Scully gets more than he bargained





	By Her Side:  A Christmas Story

**Author's Note:**

> The By Her Side series was created when I just couldn't get out of my head the idea that Bill Scully Jr. had to have some redeeming qualities

Title: By Her Side: A Christmas Story  
Author: Vickie Moseley  
Summary: Bill Scully gets more than he bargained   
for as he hosts Christmas for his now extended   
family.  
Rating: PG-13 (R for one naughty word)  
Category: H, MSM (married Mulder and Scully),   
(please note this story totally disregards anything   
that happened in Season 9. It is   
Doggett/Reyes/Season 9-free)  
Spoiler: Existence, Dead/Alive, By Her Side stories   
Disclaimer: I'm still not making money from this   
and I didn't even watch season 9 (except for The   
Truth). Ten-thirteen still owns the character names   
and all action figures.  
Archive: yes  
Comments: This is the next installment in the By   
Her Side Series, where I make Bill Scully, Jr. into a   
somewhat loveable, three-dimensional asshole as   
opposed to the one dimension asshole he is   
portrayed on the show. It does mention my other   
'wedding story', "Mother of the Bride" which, along   
with the rest of the series, can be found on my   
website.  
Dedication: to all the very sweet people who have   
asked for this series to continue. I think I've got my   
inspiration back now.   
Thanks to Susan, dtg, Sally, Theresa, Dawn and   
Suzanne for keeping me sane.

By Her Side: A Christmas Story  
By Vickie Moseley

 

San Diego, CA  
December 24, 2001  
1:45 pm

I should have stayed out on the ship. I see that now.   
I had the chance to go out on the very next day, but   
noooo, I'm Mr. Family Man. I could have cruised   
the South Pacific, stopping at Honolulu, Tahiti,   
Melbourne. But no, I had to tell my Captain that I   
had a wife and a son waiting. I had to tell him,   
happily, might I add, how my family likes to get   
together at the holidays and this year it was our turn   
to play host. I had to tell him that I was actually   
looking forward to some time stateside.

I know why Dad was out on the sea so much. He   
was a very smart man and he'd never even heard of   
Fox Mulder.

So, we pulled into port on November 30. I missed   
Thanksgiving, but my loving wife Tara more than   
made up for it with a blow out dinner that was way   
more than just the three of us could ever consume.   
Of course, I needed the protein after the workout   
she had put me through. She's gotten so good at   
these homecomings. I thought, with the addition of   
Matty to our little domicile, that homecomings   
would be more, shall I say 'tame' than they were   
when it was just Tara welcoming me home. But the   
woman is a genius. She plans sleepovers for Matty   
for the first night I'm home. The kid's only 4, it's   
not like he doesn't get just as excited to see me 18   
hours after I really arrive. In the meantime, well, I   
figured out that this stint on shore duty would   
include shopping for a new mattress on one of my   
days off. We busted a few springs on the old one.

But back to the story. Like I said, Tara had   
Thanksgiving all ready for me on December 1. A   
week late, but none the poorer, believe me. She got   
an 18 pound bird, stuffed it with oysters,   
cranberries, bread I'm sure she made herself. And   
that wasn't the half of it. Sweet potato casserole   
that melted in my mouth, mashed potatoes   
swimming in the richest giblet gravy ever to grace a   
Scully table (God forbid Mom ever hears me say   
this, but Tara's gravy runs rings around hers, I   
swear!), green beans, corn, every olive I could hope   
to encounter. For dessert, she brought out a 10 inch   
pumpkin pie with real whipped cream. For three   
people! It was almost criminal.

Actually, it was criminal. It was deliberate,   
premeditated and I'm pretty sure illegal in least 28   
states. The woman drugged me. Yes, I say it here,   
she drugged me. That stupid drug in turkey that   
renders you sleepy and content and willing to agree   
to anything. She used it to coerce me into agreeing   
to something that I never would have agreed to in a   
million years! 

I remember the conversation like it was yesterday,   
even though it was just four weeks ago. I was   
sitting in my reclining chair, watching the Chargers   
game and thinking life did not get any better. Matty   
was playing with some stuffed animal that looked   
like a fuzzy blue-green monster with purple spots   
and being quiet, an almost unheard of occurrence   
since I'd come home. And Tara was doing   
something in the kitchen, though I couldn't tell you   
what because Matty and I had cleared the table and   
loaded the dishwasher. 

The phone rang. I figured if it was important, or for   
me, she'd call me into the kitchen to take it. But she   
left me to the game, which suited me just fine. A   
few minutes later, she came in and crawled in next   
to me on the reclining chair. 

I glanced over at Matty, but relaxed because he was   
all caught up talking to some invisible guy named   
"Mike" about someone named "Boo" and wasn't   
paying attention to us at all. Besides, we're a   
family. We snuggle all the time. It's not like I was   
going to strip Tara right there and we'd do it in front   
of the kid. Or at least that's what I thought until I   
felt Tara's nimble little tongue lapping at my ear.

That's something else for the court documents. She   
drugged me AND seduced me. And right during a   
crucial football game! I was just about to either   
stop her or send the kid upstairs, when she settled   
down again and started watching the game.

Oh, I thought. We're playing that game. OK, I was   
fine with that. Tara would get me all, well, you   
know, and then when we finally got Matty to sleep,   
we'd use that lock on our bedroom door Tara made   
me install years ago and I would get breakfast in   
bed in the morning. Yes siree Bob, life didn't get   
better!

Then she started to talk. She knows that I only half   
listen when I'm watching a game. I pick up on key   
words, like 'buy', 'sell', or 'doctor', but the rest of the   
dictionary just sort of floats through my ears. I   
remember vaguely nodding once or twice and that's   
the extent of it.

Next morning, as she placed the tray with eggs over   
easy and those really great little sausage links on   
my lap, she hit me with the bombshell.

"So, I called Mom and Dana and it's all arranged.   
We can use St. Mary's, I'll call them this morning   
and I think I'll call that bakery in Horton Plaza for   
the cake. Of course, we can't do it on Christmas   
morning, that would be just too much, but I think   
we could get the little chapel around 5 o'clock on   
Christmas Eve. If no one else has it by now, that is.   
But then, this is San Diego, there has to be a church   
available, right?"

I had my mouth full by this time, and was searching   
for a way to clear it. The coffee cup was there, and   
I grabbed it and gulped. Big mistake. Tara likes   
her coffee just a few degrees below nuclear   
meltdown. I burned all the skin off the inside of my   
mouth. 

"Church? Cake? What the hell are you babbling   
about, woman??" That's what I meant to say. It   
didn't come out quite that clear. It sounded more   
like 'Thurth, thake, wha' th' heww are you babblin'   
'bout, woman?' but she seemed to understand.

"Fox and Dana's wedding, silly! Remember, I   
asked you about it last night. You said you thought   
it was a great idea!"

I reran my memory of the entire night. At one point   
I remember Tara asking me if I wanted a beer.   
She'd said something else, something before that,   
but I hadn't really answered. At the time, I thought   
the beer was a great idea. Ohmigod!

"Tara, I never said anything about a wedding!   
Besides, they got married. Justice of the peace or   
whatever."

"A judge. At the courthouse. Bill, what kind of   
wedding is that? I mean, just your mom and their   
boss there, that's not a wedding. It's a . . . a . . . well   
I don't know what it is, but it's not a wedding!"

"Tara, they have a kid, for cripes sakes! It's not like   
she can go down the aisle in a big white dress.   
They were probably too embarrassed to have a   
church wedding."

Lucky thing I was holding my coffee cup, or it   
would have been in my lap if the look Tara gave me   
was any warning.

"Oh, and I suppose all those times in the back of   
your car were just 'practice sessions', right? All the   
sex we had before we were married. That was just,   
what, learning the ground rules, William Dennis   
Scully?"

"Matty was born a full 8 years after our wedding   
day, Tara Elizabeth, and you know it!" I almost   
never use her full name, but she pissed me off.   
Besides, she used my full name first.

Apparently I pissed her off as well. After a rather   
silent day, spent mostly avoiding her glaring looks,   
I sort of caved about dinnertime. Besides, she'd   
made Matty mac and cheese for lunch and she   
knows I hate that stuff, so I figured it was more   
punishment for dinner if I didn't give in soon.

Which is why I'm standing in the middle of some   
uptown florist shop right now, on December 24,   
tossing about 350 bucks worth of soon to be dead   
flowers on my VISA account and once again   
cursing Fox Mulder and the horse he rode in on and   
I'm not referring to my sister!

At the tinkling bell behind me, I cringe. I remember   
he said he wanted to look down the street at   
something. Funny, he shows up right after I sign   
the charge slip. Amazing how that works, isn't it?

"Bill, what the hell are we going to do with all these   
flowers?"

Well, if I weren't so pissed at the bastard, I would   
give him points for that question. I'm wondering   
the same thing myself.

"Tara ordered them. There's a bouquet for the altar,   
one for Mary's altar, one for the Nativity scene,   
flowers for Dana, for Tara and for Mom, then   
boutonnieres for you, me, Matty and one for little   
Bill . . ."

"Will," Mulder corrects me.

"Oh, yeah, for little Will, and then I think that one is   
supposed to be on the table at home."

"Christ, this must have cost a fortune!"

The man is astute. But then, he was an FBI agent.   
A now 'unemployed' FBI agent. Dana says he's got   
a book deal on the line and he's going to be teaching   
a class at Georgetown next semester, but for now,   
he stays home and watches little Bill, I mean Will,   
while she goes to work. Oh, yeah, I've got one of   
those brothers-in-law. I notice he doesn't reach for   
his wallet, but instead grabs one of the three large   
boxes of flowers and hefts it toward the door.

Yeah, one of those brothers-in-law.

I guess, in some ways, I should be grateful. I mean,   
I have known for years that this asshole is the man   
with the keys to my little sister's heart. And he's   
been falling all over himself in love with her for at   
least as long, longer if he's to be believed. I know   
Mom never believed they would kiss, much less go   
so far as to have a baby together. And get married?   
That was completely out of the picture. So I should   
be tickled pink that they finally did the right thing,   
gave the kid a name and all that.

They did it already. So why am I paying for them   
to go ahead and do it again?

"Bill, I have to say, I mean, this whole wedding and   
everything."

We are halfway to the car, and from the list I have,   
we have four more stops to make. I'm feeling a   
little miffed, but hey, if the guy wants to finally   
cough up some cash, I can be big.

"I really wish you hadn't gone to all this trouble."

"Don't think anything of it, Mulder," I assure him.

"No, Bill, I mean I really wish you hadn't gone to   
all this trouble."

We're standing here in the middle of the frigging   
sidewalk on Christmas Eve and the asshole has me   
ready to punch his lights out.

"Are you saying you don't want to marry my   
sister?" I ask, trying real hard to keep my voice   
down as the last minute shoppers hurry past us.

"Bill, I already married your sister. I married her   
six months ago. I just sort of hoped to avoid all the,   
you know, other stuff."

Now I get it. He wanted to avoid the whole 'church'   
thing. Oh, boy. That takes the cake, that really   
takes the cake. Well, Mister, let me tell you one   
thing . . .

"Well, Mulder, let me tell you one thing, you are   
going to go through with this and you're gonna like   
it, get that? Because if you ever-"

He grabs my arm and propels me down the street.   
Suddenly, we're both inside this little corner bar, the   
kind the shiny new Marine Corps boots hit the   
minute they graduate before they start weapons   
school. Dark, nice wood, but the smell of beer and   
urine is unmistakable. My kind of bar. He pushes   
me to the counter and plops down on a bar stool,   
glaring at me until I follow.

"Two Rolling Rocks and two shots of Jack   
Daniels," he tells the bartender. Then he turns to   
me. "What are you having?"

I suppress the nervous giggle that is threatening to   
come out of my mouth. Oh great. Now he's going   
to get drunk before the wedding. Flashes of the last   
time Mulder and I tied one on come back to me. I   
remember a hospital came into play at some point . .   
.  
"I'm just kidding, Bill. Geez, get a grip. You like   
JD, right?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," I reply. The bartender sets the   
two shot glasses and two beers in front of us.   
Mulder picks up his shot glass, stares at the   
reflection of himself in the mirror behind the bar   
and holds the glass aloft.

"To women, especially the ones dumb enough to   
marry us," he proclaims and downs the shot in one   
gulp.

Well, I see no argument in that toast, so I second it.   
"To dumb women." Then it occurs to me he just   
called my sister and my wife stupid. I'm seeing red   
again.

"Bill, relax, it was a joke. I know Dana and Tara   
aren't dumb. They're saints, they're the mothers of   
our children, they'll probably end up in some history   
book for their bravery and steadfastness, at least   
your sister sure will. But look at us. We're hardly   
the catches of the season."

"OK, I'll give you that one," I tell him grudgingly.

It's my turn. I tap the countertop and the bartender   
is there, Jack in hand. He pours two more shots and   
goes back to watching his soap opera on the   
television. I raise the glass, nod to Mulder's   
reflection in the mirror and give my toast.

"To fatherhood."

He nods a bit and downs his drink again, in one   
gulp. I'm starting to feel that really nice burn in the   
pit of my stomach, but hope we manage to get to the   
beers now.

"I love being a father," he says, turning the glass   
over upside down on the bar. "I wake up every   
morning and just go into his room and watch him   
sleep. He doesn't sleep much past the minute I get   
in there, but for just a few seconds . . ."

My eyes are burning, must be the left over smoke in   
the bar. "Yeah," I say. "I do that with Matty   
sometimes. When I'm not out in the middle of the   
ocean someplace." That sounded like regret in my   
voice. I didn't mean it to, but Mulder picks up on it,   
too.

"It's a hard job you've chosen. I don't know how   
you do it," he says and when I look at him, I can tell   
he's not bullshitting me. He means what he says.

"You're the one who had the hard job," I huff back.   
"You got killed." Opps, I didn't mean to bring that   
up.

But he takes it in stride, picks up his beer and takes   
a sip. "Yeah. It's been a bitch. I don't remember   
my funeral, but the headstone was real classy. Gave   
a nice set of new nightmares to Scully."

Now he's the one with regret in his voice. "That   
little guy she carried off the plane sure made up for   
a lot of that," I tell him, nudging him in the ribs   
with my elbow.

"But I still have a lot of making up to do. That's   
why I agreed to this. I have a lot to make up for. I   
just wish." He swallows what he was going to say   
around another sip of beer.

"It's the church thing, isn't it?" I ask him.

He shakes his head slowly, staring at some spot of   
air between the bar and the shelf of bottles behind   
it. "No, not really. I mean, Will's baptism didn't   
bother me at all."

I missed the baptism. I was somewhere off the   
coast of Sitka if I remember correctly.

"I just wish we could have done it right the first   
time," he goes on, regardless of if I'm listening or   
not. "I wanted to marry her a long time ago. That   
stupid ass job and that fucking Bureau . . . no, I   
can't even really blame that. I was a coward. Plain   
and simple."

"Dana wasn't ready to marry you yet, either. Have   
you thought about that?"

That statement sort of catches him off guard. He   
stares at me, and I know I better back up what I'm   
saying.

"Tara and Dana talk all the time. And right before   
you were, uh, you disappeared, Tara said Dana was   
happier than she'd ever been. Tara brought up the   
idea of you two finally settling down together, I   
mean, making it legal and all and you know what   
Dana told her?"

He shakes his head at me, mesmerized by my story.

"She said 'we're so far past that point, Tara. We   
don't need to make it legal.' That's what she said.   
So if you'd come to her and proposed, to her, it   
would have been a mistake, a step back. She wasn't   
ready to see the advantages of being married."

"We've always made decisions together," he assures   
me. "But not like now. Not where to live and   
whether I go with one publisher or another one. It's   
different."

"See, the way I see it, you two had, oh, what did   
they call it, a common law marriage. You had that   
for a long time. But you have to consider little Will   
now. That's what made the difference."

"I know, Bill, I know. But I really hoped I wouldn't   
have my son attending my wedding," he says with a   
sigh, finishing off the beer.

"Look at it this way. At least you're marrying his   
mother," I shoot back with a grin.

"At least she'll have me. Twice."

"If I were to ask Tara to marry me again, on certain   
days at certain times. . ."

He interrupts me. "She'd do it again, Bill, and you   
know it."

I nod in acceptance. "Yeah. I do." We're quiet for   
a minute, each inspecting our beers and the counter   
of the bar. It's been a question that's been eating me   
for so long that I almost don't realize it slips out of   
my mouth.

"So how the hell did I get a nephew?"

Beer spurts from his lips, but not enough to call it a   
loss and he chokes down what's left in his mouth.

"I should have known not to get you around beer,   
Scully," he growls. He wipes his mouth on a   
nearby cocktail napkin and shakes his head as he   
looks at me. Right now, I'm pretty sure he'd bust   
me in the chops if he didn't have to face my wife   
and my mother when he left this place.

"Do you want to know the specific position, or just   
the general working principles?" he asks, in that   
smart ass voice of his.

I get to growl this time. "She was barren," I remind   
him. "She couldn't have kids. That was the whole   
point of that little girl."

"Emily," he reminds me with an undeserved glare.

"Yeah, Emily." I still think it's crazy, but Tara takes   
flowers out to the grave every holiday. Dana asked   
her to do that, I know, but why should my wife get   
stuck putting flowers on some kid's grave that   
wasn't even really part of our family? And Tara   
yells at me that I don't get it every time I try to bring   
that up so I've learned to just keep my mouth shut.   
"Face it, she couldn't have kids and now you have   
one. How?"

He's chewing his lip, and I'm pretty sure he's not   
going to tell me. Then he looks at me for a minute,   
and I can actually see him change his mind right   
there in his eyes. "She wanted a child."

"You guys aren't married, well, you weren't at the   
time," I point out, rather reasonably, I think.

"But we couldn't. Not and stay partners. So she   
wanted a child. And a doctor told her there was a   
chance with IVF. So we tried."

"And that's how you got Will?"

"No," he says with this shit-eating grin.

"No?" I ask. What the hell is he talking about?

"It didn't work. She didn't get pregnant. So we   
gave up. She never mentioned it again. We went   
back to the way things were . . ."

"Having sex every other minute," I nod. It sure as   
hell seemed that way the last time I saw them.

"Hardly," he tells me with icicles hanging off every   
letter. "So, anyway, we went back to the way things   
were. No more little plastic cups for me. No more   
doctors for her. And then . . ." He just stops. He   
doesn't say anything.

"You took off," I supply. It was what I always   
suspected.

He laughs. A full belly laugh. He waves over the   
bartender and taps at his empty beer bottle. Another   
full one appears on the counter. He downs about   
half of it.

"Yeah, Bill. I took off. I just walked out to Oregon   
and stuck my thumb out and the nearest spaceship   
just gave me a lift. That's exactly what happened."

I nod for a second. The spaceship story again.   
Dana had told Tara something like that but of   
course, she was pregnant at the time so I ignored it.   
Hormones do terrible things to pregnant women.

"You were dead when you came back," I point out.   
He was, too. I didn't get to the funeral, but Mom   
did and she even helped Dana pick out the suit the   
bastard wore in the casket. Dead and buried and   
that was the end of it. I never knew how to feel   
after I got the news. In one respect, I was sort of   
happy that chapter of Dana's life was over. He'd   
caused her so much pain and anguish, running off   
when she got pregnant like he did. If he turned up   
dead, who was I to care? But Tara told me, in no   
uncertain words, that he didn't know she was   
pregnant when he left. So why did he leave? The   
man I saw a few years back would never have left   
my sister. 

"I didn't leave her on purpose." 

I hate it when he reads my mind like that, but he   
just keeps going. 

"I didn't want to leave. Bill, I know you have no   
reason to believe that, but if you've ever thought for   
one minute that I love your sister, you have to   
understand that I did not leave her of my own free   
will. I was taken away from her. Believe whatever   
you want. Believe it was aliens or believe it was   
terrorists, I don't give a damn. Just know for a fact   
that I would have done anything to come back to   
her that night and she was my only thought all the   
time I was away from her."

"OK, maybe I can buy that. But Mulder, you were   
dead," I remind him. Just in case it slipped his   
memory for a minute. God, I can't imagine what it   
would have been like to be in that casket all those   
months . . .

"I wasn't really dead. I was . . . very sick. What   
they did to me left me near death, yes. But I wasn't   
dead. I didn't 'rise from the dead', Bill. Skinner,   
our boss, saw something that made him put two and   
two together. He's the one who dug me up, got me   
to the hospital. But it was Scully, your sister, who   
saved me. She cured me. She brought me all the   
way back to life. Just like she always does."

We hear the bell on the door as it opens and the   
bright light of the sun floods the room for an   
instant. When our eyes adjust, we see our wives   
standing just inside the door.

"I told you to look for the nearest bar, Tara," my   
dainty sister says as she saddles up to the counter   
and plops down next to her husband. She picks up   
the shot glass, examines it like it was some guy's   
spleen, and sets it down on the counter again. The   
bartender is standing at attention, waiting to call the   
cops. "Give me what they're having."

"Me too," says Tara, hopping up to sit on the stool   
next to me. "I saw the flowers, at least you didn't   
forget what we sent you out for," she directs at me   
with a little glare.

"Hey, this wasn't my idea," I object.

"It was mine, Tara. I decided I needed a bachelor   
party. I didn't get one last time."

"As I remember," my sister pipes in. "The Gunmen   
took you out to Casey's and you had a round."

Mulder looks over at me and puts his hand on my   
shoulder. "Yeah, but my best man wasn't there," he   
grins broadly and sips at the shot the bartender just   
poured him. Best man? I mean, yeah, I'm standing   
up for them, but Best Man? Who'd have thought!   
Guess the first two drinks mellowed him out a bit.   
Mellowed us both out a bit, the thought isn't as   
disgusting as it once would have been.

"Are Will and Matty with Mom?" I ask, trying to   
hide my embarrassment at our newfound 'closeness'.

"No, we duck taped them in the closet," Dana   
replies dry as sand. "Of course Mom's with them.   
When you two didn't come back when you were   
supposed to, Tara and I decided we better go look   
for you."

"Sorry," we both say as one. 

Dana starts to pull out her wallet to pay the tab, but   
Mulder stops her by tossing a Gold Amex on the   
counter. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.   
Hey, wait. I thought they were broke!

"You need to pay Bill for the flowers. I forgot to   
bring the checkbook, and he'd already paid when I   
caught up with him," he tells her as he helps her   
down from the stool.

"I already handled that. I paid Tara for everything   
at lunch," she informs him. She turns to give him a   
look. "Why weren't you at the florist with him?" 

I recognize that tone in her voice. Somebody's got   
some 'splainin' to do.

"You'll see, later," he tells her.

She gives him a look and then . . . lets it drop. I   
have to remember how he did that. But then, it is   
Christmas Eve. Dana was always a horrible snoop   
at Christmas, but maybe being married with a kid   
has mellowed her, too. 

Tara is checking her watch. "Judging from the   
backseat of the car, you haven't made it to the   
bakery, the rental store to pick up the punch bowl or   
the dry cleaners. And we have exactly three hours   
until we have to be at the Church. The only way   
we'll get this done is to split up the errands. Fox   
and Dana, you do the punch bowl, I showed you   
where the rental place was right by the house,   
right?" Dana nods, I sit there in awe. "Good. OK,   
Bill and I will get the cake and run past the cleaners.   
We'll all meet at the house at 15:30. Any   
questions?"

"I thought you were the one in the Navy," Mulder   
mutters in my direction.

"So did I," I return, but before I get the words out,   
his wife has him by the arm and my wife has me by   
the arm and we are out the door and on the road.

 

The Church  
16:55 hours  
St. Mary's Catholic Church

I have to admit, Tara knocked herself out. The little   
chapel is full of all those flowers that were in the   
back of our van. Candles are all over the place,   
because, well, it is Christmas Eve. This chapel   
won't get much use tonight, Midnight Mass is in the   
main sanctuary, but it looks none the less festive for   
the season. The little Nativity has Matty wide-eyed   
and actually quiet, for once. Even little Will seems   
to think it's pretty cool, bouncing on Mom's lap.   
She looks good with grandchildren. I wish we   
could give her more. But I guess Matty and Will   
will have to do until Charlie starts holding up his   
end of the bargain.

Tara and Dana are in the women's restroom, doing   
God knows what to Dana's hair. Tara's been a   
frustrated hairdresser for as long as I've known her.   
She'd be a good one, too, if she ever decided to do   
it. She just hates the smell of those stupid   
chemicals. Come to think of it, I hate it, when she   
gets her hair permed or whatever and I'm forced to   
sleep in the same bed as 'Bride of Frankenstein'.   
Oh, God, don't ever let her hear me say that.

Well, tonight, it's Mulder sleeping with Bride of   
Frankenstein. But for the moment, he looks . . .

This is so funny! Here he is, he's been married to   
her for six months now, and he's the picture of a   
nervous groom. His hair is sticking up from the   
five hundred times he's run his fingers through it.   
The jacket to his tux is bunched up on his shoulders,   
again an effect of moving his arms up too high.   
And what has he done with that cummerbund? So   
help me God, if he lost that damned thing and we   
have to pay for it. Wait, what am I saying? He can   
pay for the whole goddamned monkey suit, from   
what I gathered this afternoon. OK, let him lose the   
cummerbund. Hell, it's not my money.

But there is no way I'm going out at 5:00 on   
Christmas Eve to find him another one!

"Mulder, man, what did you do with the rest of the   
tux?" I ask, trying to keep the frustration out of my   
voice.

"Huh?" So much for an Oxford education,   
apparently. 

"The tux, man. The cummerbund to the tux. Where   
is it?"

He looks down at his waist, as if it will magically   
sport the missing piece of fabric. Then he looks up   
at me, stricken. "I . . . I don't know."

I nod, trying to keep what little patience I still have   
in check. "OK, did you have it with you in the   
restroom?" I ask. When did I start sounding less   
like me and more like Dad on Easter Sunday when I   
couldn't find my left shoe?

"I think I did. I don't know. Are you sure it came   
with one?" he asks. This man was a top profiler?   
This man watched my sister's back for 9 years?   
Shesh!

"Let's look, shall we?" I offer and guide him toward   
the men's room. Luckily, we're alone, so we don't   
look quite like the dorks we are as we check the   
stalls and under the sinks. Finally, he spots the   
hanger on the back of the door. The cummerbund is   
still hanging on the hanger. At least it's not on the   
floor of one of the stalls.

"I just . . . I don't know what's wrong with me,"   
Mulder tells me as I watch him try to get the   
cummerbund around his waist. He can't seem to get   
the hang of the fastener. I give up and go around to   
help him.

"It's nerves, Mulder. Every groom has 'em."

"But the second time around, and to the same   
woman?" he asks.

The cummerbund is in place, I straighten the jacket   
and hand him a comb, pointing toward the mirror on   
the wall.

"Sure. What is a wedding, anyway? A big show.   
Who doesn't get nervous the night of a big show?"

"It's not just a show," he reminds me as he tries to   
tame the wild thing on his head. Man, I wish my   
genes had that many follicles.

"Mulder, you don't love her any less right now than   
you will after you say 'I do', again," I remind him   
right back. 

"I couldn't possibly love her any more than I do," he   
agrees. Finally, he decides to give up on the hair.   
He looks at himself in the mirror. I shoot him a   
smile and a nod. Just like Dad did to me at my   
wedding.

"Ready to get this show on the road?" I ask him.

He blinks and for a moment, he turns a little green.   
Oh shit, what did I say? But he recovers quickly   
and gives me a weak smile.

"Yeah, let's do it."

I nod and head out the door, fighting the urge to   
look over my shoulder and make sure he's following   
me.

The little chapel looks great. The sun has set   
outside, and even though it's a balmy 67 degrees, I   
can almost believe it could snow tonight. Christmas   
snow. I know it's pretty silly of me, considering we   
really didn't have much Christmas snow when I was   
growing up, definitely not when Dad was at   
Miramar, or when we were in Pensacola. But the   
two years at Great Lakes we had snow each year   
and I think those are the Christmases I always   
remember from my childhood.

Matty sees me and yells out 'Hi, Daddy!' before   
Mom gets a chance to shush him. On most   
Sundays, this chapel gets double duty as a cry room   
and he's used to talking back here. He tries to   
explain that to Mom, but she shushes him right back   
and I have to hide my laugh when Matty gets the   
same look we used to get every time we acted up in   
Church. 

Will, on the other hand, is mesmerized by the   
candlelight and looks about ready to drift off. I   
know Dana fed him before we left for the church, so   
he's probably not going to last long.

I look at Father Dannon, the young priest here at St.   
Mary's. He's a good guy, about Charlie's age.   
We've talked a time or two after Mass when I'm on   
leave. I like him and I'm glad he's the one doing   
this. Old Father Sullivan would have said   
something about 'carts before horses' when he got   
wind of the circumstances. Dana doesn't need to   
hear that, not after what they've been through.

And speak of the devil, or in this case, my sister,   
here she comes. Tara said they found the perfect   
dress, white, sleeveless, a v neckline that I would   
have choked at if it had been my bride coming   
down the aisle. I glance over at Mulder and see the   
appreciation in his eyes, too. It's funny, I've known   
for so long that they've been in love, but it never   
occurred to me how much in love they really are. I   
shoot a smile to Tara, who's just made it to the front   
of the church right before Dana. She smiles back. I   
guess we're still that much in love, too.

Father Dannon smiles at everyone and the   
ceremony gets started. Amazingly, Matty doesn't   
say a peep after the initial warnings from Mom. I   
wish she'd teach that trick to Tara. And as I   
expected, when I have a chance to look behind us,   
Will is sound asleep in his carrier, none the wiser   
that he's witnessing a very important occasion. So   
basically, Mulder's getting his wish, too.

When Father Dannon asks them to exchange rings, I   
remember that Dana had already given me her   
wedding band to give to Mulder. I start to pull it   
out of my pocket, but Mulder shakes his head and   
pulls something out of his inside jacket pocket   
instead. I only see it for a second as he slides it on   
his finger, but the whole ring is encircled with   
diamonds and sparkles enough to light up a battle   
cruiser.

Dana was looking at their hands and when this new   
ring appears she jerks her head up to meet Mulder's   
eyes. For a second I almost feel sorry for the guy.   
If looks could kill, I'd back up to be out of the blast   
zone. But then he smiles at her and tilts his head   
just a bit and she closes her eyes for a blink and   
replaces her fiery glare with the most beautiful   
smile I've ever seen on her face. She nods to poor   
Father Dannon, who isn't quite sure what's going   
on, but doesn't want to add to any possible   
bloodshed. In a shaky voice, the young Father   
finishes the ceremony.

They kiss, a most chaste kiss that promises to be   
more passionate when they get to the hotel later.   
That was Tara's idea, too. She pointed out this   
would be the only Christmas when Will would be   
too little to notice his parent's absence, so they   
should take advantage of that and spend one   
honeymoon night together. Mom told me earlier   
they didn't get that after the first wedding. 

We all stand around, kissing the bride, shaking   
hands with the groom, but it doesn't really take   
much time because it's just us and Charlie finally   
shows up, late as usual.

"I missed it, you'll have to do it again!" he declares   
as he waltzes in, sweeping Dana in to a hug and   
then Mulder, too.

"Not on your life!" Mulder tells him. "Twice is   
enough."

"Not even on our 50th Anniversary, G-man?" Dana   
asks coyly.

He grins down at her and pulls her into his arms.   
"Ask me in 50 years." The kiss he bends down to   
give her is anything but chaste and Mom clears her   
throat to break them up before things get out of   
hand.

"Let's get back to the house. We have dinner, yet.   
And don't you even think of sneaking out on that,   
you two," she warns the newlyweds.

We gather up the boys, Mulder hefting the carrier in   
one hand and puts his other arm around Dana's   
shoulder. "About these weddings, partner. I liked   
the original, but the remix is good, too." I have to   
swallow my laugh when she socks him right in the   
gut.

Tara, Mom and Dana had knocked themselves out   
while Mulder and I were playing at the florist and   
bar. The house, which I hadn't really had a chance   
to notice before, looks like a Christmas wonderland.   
No, it looks like our house, when I was growing up.   
It looks beautiful and I make sure to tell my wife   
just how beautiful when we have a minute.

The buffet of food is excellent, too and a few of our   
neighbors are over to share in it. Tara smiles at it   
all, she loves hosting parties. Such a Naval wife.   
So much like Mom. 

I notice the punch bowl is empty after we've all had   
our fill of the ham, turkey and roast beef   
sandwiches and salads. I go into the kitchen to mix   
up some more, maybe with a little more 'spice' this   
time.

I hear a high-pitched squeal that I know comes from   
Tara in the living room. I almost drop the punch   
bowl to run in and see what's the matter.

As I get in the room, there is my wife, clinging to   
my brother-in-law for dear life, tears streaming   
down her face. And right in front of me, she plants   
a hell of a kiss right on his mouth.

"I love you, you big lug!! They are perfect,   
absolutely perfect! Oh, god, if we hadn't gone to all   
this trouble, I'd marry you myself!" And then she   
notices that I'm in the room.

There is complete silence for a few seconds. I must   
be seventeen shades of red because my face feels   
like it's on fire. Tara pushes herself away from   
Mulder and runs over to me, throwing her arms   
around my neck. "Nah, on second thought, I'm   
sticking with my current model," she says and   
proceeds to stick her tongue very far down my   
throat. 

Whatever I was thinking is lost as I return the kiss   
and try to remember there are people in the room,   
cursing every one of them that I can't just tell my   
wife to ditch the party and let's get a room   
somewhere. But I gain some brain cells as she   
slides down my side and holds a small box out for   
me to see.

Diamond earrings. Something I could never afford   
on military pay. 

"They're from Mulder and Dana," she says with the   
biggest smile I could ever imagine another guy   
putting on her face. Then she pulls me down and   
whispers in my ear "and the money we put out on   
this thing, it's all been covered. Plus, next leave, we   
have plane tickets home and an offer to babysit   
Matty while you and I spend a few days at Mulder's   
summer house in Rhode Island!" Her eyes are   
twinkling so bright, she looks like a miniature   
Christmas tree.

I look over at Mulder and he just shrugs. "It's there,   
if you want it."

I keep a smile plastered on my face and nod. The   
son of a bitch. He's loaded after all. The ring on   
Dana's finger almost blinds me when it catches the   
lights of the tree and now the earrings in my wife's   
ears are causing the jets at the base to confuse our   
living room for the landing strip.

I look over at Mom, hoping for some moral support.   
That's when I catch the necklace she's wearing. Not   
diamonds this time, thank god. The room can't   
stand any more brilliance. No, my mother is   
sporting a perfectly matched set of pearls. They are   
beautiful. And I know where they came from.

I search for any scrap of calm I can find in the pit of   
my stomach. So this is what I'm in for. A lifetime   
of being out 'Jonesed' at every family gathering. A   
lifetime of hearing 'Mulder gave Dana this and   
Mulder gave William that'. Or worse yet, maybe   
even the ego-crushing 'why can't you provide for   
Tara like Mulder provides for Dana!' I can feel the   
50-year migraine starting just behind my left eye.

"Bill, where's the punch?" Tara asks as she showing   
off her earrings to our next-door neighbors.

"Oh, yeah, punch," I mumble and beat a hasty   
retreat into the kitchen.

I hear the door swing and don't bother to turn   
around. "I've got it, Tara. I couldn't find the new   
bottle of 7-Up."

"It's not Tara, Bill." Oh shit, it's Mulder. But I   
keep my face steady. The bastard just gave my wife   
and mother at least a couple thousand dollars worth   
of presents, I can be grateful. Can't I?

"Bill, I, uh, what Tara said back there," he   
mumbles.

I refuse to let this discussion happen. He's got   
money, I don't. Big deal. It's not the end of the   
world. 

"It's OK, Mulder. You gave some terrific presents   
tonight. She got a little overwhelmed. No big   
deal," I say, making sure my hands are occupied   
with pouring fruit punch and 7-Up into the cut glass   
bowl. Cut glass. Damn, even the punch bowl is   
depressing me now.

"Bill, can I be honest with you?"

I really don't want to look at the guy right now, but I   
can't exactly shove past him with the punch bowl.   
It would end up on both of us. So I turn, wiping my   
hands on a dishtowel.

"Bill, I probably should have told you that I was   
getting Tara those earrings. For all I know, you're   
giving her a set just like them."

I snort. Not at my pay grade.

"I just wanted both of you to know how much I   
appreciate all that you've done for us. You didn't   
have to plan all this. It's been a really wonderful   
ceremony for Dana. She wanted a church wedding   
the first time, but it didn't turn out that way. You've   
given her something I couldn't give her. I just   
wanted to find a way to repay you."

I can't help myself, it just blurts out. "By giving my   
wife earrings I could never afford to give her?"

Mulder closes his eyes for a second, like he hadn't   
given it any thought at all until this moment. "I, I   
never meant . . . Bill, in my family, money was   
never a problem. You've seen how I live. I buy   
expensive suits because they fit better. If we   
weren't living in Dana's apartment, Will would be   
growing up in a one-bedroom fourth floor with an   
elevator that runs half the time. Money really   
doesn't mean that much to me. I'm sorry if I made   
you feel uncomfortable. I'll try to remember it in   
the future." 

His hand comes out and I'm now forced to make a   
decision.

He's not the man I hated for so long. I got over that.   
He's not my sister's lover. I was able to ignore all   
that. No, this man is now my brother, that's just   
how our family is. And just as Charlie can drive me   
crazy at times, like when he shows up after our   
sister's wedding, well, this man is likely to drive me   
crazy at times, too.

But that's how brothers are. That's what family is.   
The warts, the Jonesing, the whole nine yards. 

I take his hand and shake it firmly. "Just keep the   
earrings to under 500 next time," I tell him sternly.

He laughs, a relieved laugh if I can judge by the   
sound of it. At that moment, Dana comes through   
the doorway.

"Will is asleep, I just fed him again. If we leave   
now . . ."

"Right there," he tells her with a wink. "Just one   
more thing."

"OK, I'll get our sweaters. It's turned chilly out   
there."

"Well, Bill," Mulder says, shrugging his shoulder   
while digging in his pants pocket. "I guess I should   
take these back and exchange them for something a   
little less showy, huh?"

I look at him in confusion. He pulls out season   
tickets for the San Diego Chargers. I can see the   
seats. These are _really_ good seats! I snatch the   
tickets out of his hand and pull him into a bear hug.

"Damn, Mulder, if you weren't married to my sister,   
I'd tell Tara we'd have to make it a threesome!"

And turn around to see my wife, my mother and my   
sister all staring at us from the doorway of the   
kitchen.

"Mulder, it's time to go," Dana says coolly. Mom   
and Tara look like they're about to burst.

"Yeah, sure, ready when you are, babe," he tells her   
and goes over to give Mom a kiss on the cheek and   
then looks back to me. I nod and he gives Tara a   
kiss on the cheek, too.

Tara and I walk them to the door. "Mulder, about   
what I said in the kitchen," I tell him as they start to   
head for their rental car.

"Yeah?" he turns to look at me.

"You can go higher, if the mood hits."

His grin is worth it. Everything I've been through   
this day and to come.

We wave as they get in the car and drive off. Tara   
gives me a hug and walks with me back into the   
house. Before we rejoin the party, she pulls me   
down to give me a kiss. I have to admit, the   
earrings look perfect on her. 

"What was that with Mulder?" she asks.

I can look innocent when I want to. "Just a thing   
between brothers," I assure her.

I have one of _those_ brothers-in-law. And I   
wouldn't change him for the world.

The end.


End file.
